


Winter's Liability

by scottlang



Series: J. Snow [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Family Feels, Gen, Mentions Bran Stark, Mentions Catelyn Tully Stark, Mentions Ned Stark, Mentions Rickon Stark, Mentions Robb Stark, Mentions Sansa Stark - Freeform, Protective Siblings, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 03:38:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11706027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scottlang/pseuds/scottlang
Summary: The bastard son of Eddard Stark is soon heading to join the Night's Watch at the Wall, but he has some unfinished business to attend to.





	Winter's Liability

        The air was crisp and smelt of pine needles and manure. The stones that built Winterfell into the grand structure it bestowed to the seven kingdoms glistened with patches of stark white snow. There were plenty of insects buzzing around the stables with horses neighing as they fed on bales of hay. A serene atmosphere surrounded the kingdom of the North and it somehow made Jon Snow feel at home and at ease. The bastard son of Eddard Stark stomped through one of many foot-trails placed throughout the structure, the ice crunching beneath his shoes. He had promised his half-sister that before he left Winterfell to head to the Wall, Jon would teach Arya how to use the sword he gave her as a gift. She had explained it as wanting a memory before he was gone, and it uplifted his mood despite having been told off again by Arya's mother. The Tully woman despised Jon with every fiber of her being, and the bastard had given up any attempt of convincing her of his worth.

        Glancing down at the fallen snow beneath him, the soon-to-be steward spotted paw prints within the malleable substance. A light smile twitched onto his normally stoic expression, stopping suddenly to kneel and inspect the animal tracks further. Recognizing the depth of the impressions, Jon slowly looked up, scanning his surroundings for his direwolf Ghost. The white wolf was always surprising the bastard whenever he walked the grounds of the kingdom. Whistling softly, Jon stood, ears picking up a rustle in a bush nearby. He swiveled his body towards the noise, arms dangling to his side as he gave a clap. Ghost sprinted out of the briers, the wolf’s crimson eyes staring straight ahead at the bastard.

        “Hello, boy,” Snow murmured as the direwolf circled him, scratching the animal behind its raised ears. Ghost nibbled on his hand before letting out a low bark, sauntering off to find Arya’s pup Nymeria. When the Starks had found the direwolf pups, they had allowed the children to choose their own. Sansa had named her pup Lady—something that Jon barely understood, though his half-sister was known for her more elegant, proper tastes. Robb had named his pup Grey Wind and the young Stark Rickon named his Shaggydog. Bran had not chosen a name for his wolf pup yet, though he had asked Jon for suggestions and nothing particularly struck him.

        Jon waved a short goodbye to Ghost before continuing to the training grounds, spotting his short-haired sister polishing her new blade. He adjusted the furs that were attached to his cloak, raising a gloved hand to whistle at the young girl as he approached. He could hear Ghost and Nymeria playing nearby in the yard, wanting to watch their person's practice swordfighting. The young girl was only nine years old and there was innocence in Arya that the bastard son of Ned Stark wanted to protect. Out of all the Stark children, he felt the fondest of her.

        “You got out of your studies again?” The bastard teased, watching as the girl raised her head to look at him, a bright expression lighting her face.

        “I figured they wouldn't need me for an hour or so,” Arya responded, settling her sword upon a cloth that was draped on the ground. She scurried to her feet, running over to Jon to wrap her skinny arms around his waist.

        “I am not leaving yet, sister,” Jon exhaled a chuckle, returning his arms around the Stark, patting the top of her head lightly.

        "I am aware!" The girl proclaimed.

        “Come on then, Arya Stark of Winterfell—extend your blade and we shall commence your training.”

        “Aye, Jon Snow of Winterfell!” The girl copied, releasing her half-brother as she ran to grasp the hilt of her sword. The steward retrieved his own blade from his side, pointing it directly at Arya.

        “You must be light on your feet when wielding a sword. Needle will provide the balance whilst you conduct your moves, dear sister. Now, step towards me and hit my blade from the left.”

        Doing as she was told, the short girl struck at Jon Snow’s blade. The metal saber wobbled with the impact of the action, catching her off-guard. The bastard raised his hand, bringing his sister’s focus back to him. He showed her how he was taking deep breaths, motioning for Arya to imitate his breathing pattern.

        “With practice, you will strengthen yourself and you will become accustomed to the impact of metal on metal. For now, do the best you can.”

        Their swords clashed together, the echo of iron ringing throughout the grounds of the kingdom. Jon taught Arya several styles of blocking a jab from an opponent, and how to disarm an enemy of their blade. A few times, the girl would fall backwards or drop her sword, her face flushing in embarrassment. The bastard reassured her that she was doing well and waited until she was able to regain her composure before continuing their training. They had not spent this much time together in a long while, and Jon was relishing every moment of it. His half-sister understood his shame for existing within the walls of Winterfell, and yet she loved him all the same. The steward noticed how much she looked up to him and it made him want to be the best man he could be, if not for himself, for Arya.

        After a few hours of practice Jon Snow sheathed his sword, gesturing for the young girl to do the same. Luckily for them both, there were only a few scratches on their arms. Mostly, the fabrics they wore took most of the beating. Their session today mostly involved defensive maneuvers, as Jon felt that Arya required more training for offensive actions. He did not want Arya returning to her quarters for someone to find a gash upon her small frame.

        “Clean your Needle, Arya,” The bastard handed the girl a rag as well as some polish, settling himself cross-legged on the ground beside her.

        “I won’t be able to train with you anymore, Jon,” She stated with sadness in her tone, scooping polish into the rag as she smeared it on the blade of her saber. Her brow knit together as she stared up at her half-brother, a frown stretched upon her countenance.

        “I—I know, but we have to live our lives. It is the only path I can take as I fear your mother will send someone after me if I reside in Winterfell any longer. I was born to join the Night’s Watch as you were born to rule alongside your brothers and sisters in the North.”

        “But I am not interested in ruling, Jon. I want to fight, I want to see Westeros with my own eyes instead of listening to the stories that the others tell.”

        “Your mother wants—“

        “I do not want to hear what my mother wants, or what anyone wants! I want you to stay here, Jon. I don’t want you to leave,” The young Stark choked back a sob, swallowing it before she displayed any weakness to her brother. It broke Jon’s heart, seeing his closest sibling this way, this lonely. They were only children, but she was a Stark and he was a bastard. They had to follow their paths, wherever it may lead them.

        Arya once more wrapped her thin arms around her brother, sniffling as she wiped her tears away. She did not want him to leave; she almost wanted to go with him to the Wall. But she knew she could not without getting into serious trouble. They had a strong connection, the two outcasts. Though, in the back of the steward's mind, he would have given anything to have a loving mother. Arya was lucky in that sense and he needed her to understand this. Life was lonely without a figure to call upon when troublesome thoughts plagued his mind. Jon rubbed circles on her back, doing his best to soothe his half-sister, reassuring her that everything would be okay.


End file.
